Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

ZAYN

I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. She stared out the window, her jaw clenched and her hands balled into little fists. I had been sipping club soda all night, knowing I had to drive us back to the house in her father's truck. I didn't want to risk running into a cow or a prairie dog or whatever the hell wildlife might be out there in the dark of Wyoming.

And I had wanted to stay sober to be ready for whatever might happen. After what had just gone down in the tavern, I was grateful I had abstained. Courtney had looked ready to crack a pool cue over Marigold's head.

As we left Benny's tavern behind, my brave fake fiancée sat beside me, her posture stiff. She was quiet. Anger radiated off her, practically vibrating in the confined space. I chose not to pry.

She would tell me when she was ready.

Her jaw was set, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the dark road in front of us, but I could tell she wasn't really seeing it. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying whatever had happened with Courtney.

I'd seen the shot of tequila splash across Courtney's face, seen the look of pure shock on her face, and then the fury in Marigold's. But I hadn't heard what Courtney had said to push her over the edge. Whatever it was, it must have been bad.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Marigold spoke.

"That fucking bitch!" The words exploded out of her, filled with venom and rage. Her voice was shaky, her breath coming in short, angry bursts. "She's always been like that, you know? Always finding ways to make me feel like I'm nothing. Like I'm less than her. God, I thought I'd left all that behind when I moved away, but she's still the same mean, manipulative, soulless monster she's always been!"

I nodded. I had seen someone angry and losing their cool before. This was a deep, seething anger that had been simmering under the surface for years, and now it was finally boiling over. All I could do was listen.

"She used to call me Marigut in high school," Marigold continued, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Like I was some kind of disgusting insect. They'd laugh at me, point and whisper behind my back. And she was always at the center of it. Always the ringleader, making sure everyone knew how much better she was than me."

She paused, her breathing heavy. I could see her fighting to keep herself together. But it was a losing battle. The anger was giving way to something else—something much more painful.

"I thought… I thought I was over it," she said, her voice trembling. "I thought I'd moved on but hearing her say those things tonight—about my dad, about me leaving him—it just cut me so deep, Zayn. It's like nothing's changed. I'm still that scared, lonely girl she picked on all those years ago."

And then, just like that, the dam broke.

Marigold started sobbing, the sound ripping through the cab like a knife to the gut. I'd never seen her cry like this. It tore me apart to witness it. I felt completely out of my element, utterly helpless. Crying girls had never been in my comfort zone, and seeing Marigold, of all people, break down like this, it was more than I could stand.

I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't just keep driving and let her cry alone. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I eased off the gas and pulled the truck over to the side of the road. The tires crunched to a stop on the gravel. We were in the middle of nowhere, but I wasn't worried we were going to be set upon by bandits. Coyotes, maybe, but I might have just been thinking of cartoons I watched as a kid.

I turned off the ignition, plunging us into silence except for Marigold's choked sobs. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached over to do the same for her, my hands moving almost automatically. She didn't resist. She was too lost in her own despair. Once she was free, I gently pulled her across the bench seat and into my arms, cradling her against my side.

"Come here," I whispered, my voice rough with emotion I didn't fully understand. "I've got you, Marigold. It's going to be alright."

She buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking into my shirt. She clung to me like I was her lifeline. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight, one hand stroking her hair in what I hoped was a soothing motion. I'd never been good at this—comforting someone in their pain—but I had to try. I couldn't just sit by and do nothing while she hurt like this.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I never should've suggested going to the tavern. I didn't know it would be like this, that she would say those things. I never wanted you to get hurt. But hey, you stood up to her and threw a drink in her face. People will be talking about that for years."

She nodded against my chest and her sobs started to slow. Her breathing evened out as she began to calm down. I kept stroking her hair.

"The look on her face?" I said softly. "I wish I had gotten a picture for you. She looked like a drowned rat, hair and makeup all messed up. Eyes red and mouth open. She never saw it coming from little old Marigold."

She shook her head against me and I thought I caught a glimpse of the shadow of a smile.

"I'm so proud of you for standing up to her," I said, rubbing her back. "Bullies only speak one language—violence—and throwing that shot in her smug face might have finally sent her a message she can understand. Just because Courtney can't get past high school doesn't mean you're still the same girl. You proved you're all grown up now and can take care of yourself."

Marigold finally pulled back slightly, wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she looked up at me with an intensity that took my breath away.

Her green eyes—usually so bright and full of life—were darker now, more intense. I found myself getting lost in that gaze, unable to look away. It was like she was searching for something in me, something she desperately needed, and I wasn't sure if I had it to give. But I'd be damned if I didn't try.

She leaned in and kissed me.

It wasn't the soft, hesitant kiss of someone testing the waters. This was raw, hungry, and desperate, like she was clinging to me with everything she had left. Her lips pressed against mine with a fervor that startled me, but I didn't hesitate to respond.

I kissed her back, just as fiercely, pouring everything I couldn't say into that kiss. I held her tighter, one hand still tangled in her hair, the other resting on the small of her back. She shifted in my arms, moving closer, until she was practically in my lap.

The truck's cab was small, the space cramped, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was Marigold—here, now—in my arms, kissing me like her life depended on it. And maybe it did, in a way. Maybe this was the only way she knew how to cope with the hurt, the pain that Courtney had dredged up.

Marigold's hands slid up my chest, gripping the fabric of my shirt as if she was afraid I might disappear. I could feel her heartbeat pounding against my chest, quick and erratic, matching the wild rhythm of my own. I deepened the kiss, my tongue brushing against hers in a way that made her shudder against me. It was like we were both trying to drown out the world, to forget everything except this moment, here in the dark, in Jay's old truck on the side of the road.

"I need you," she said. "Right now. Fuck me. Fuck me like you want me."

"I do want you," I said.

Her mouth slammed against mine with her hands pushing my shirt up. I helped her pull the fabric over my head, grateful for the years of workouts that had sculpted my body into something she seemed to appreciate. Her hands roamed across my chest, a touch so intense, it was as if she was trying to memorize me by touch alone.

I reached for the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head and revealing the lacy bra she wore beneath it. She looked beautiful in the moonlight streaming through the truck windows, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and raw emotion.

And then she was attacking the button on my jeans. Her nails scratched over my stomach. My body jerked in response to the pain and pleasure. I grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked at me, her eyes pleading with me.

I understood. She was in that mode that required fierce and fiery.

I was all too happy to oblige.

With a swift motion, I unhooked the button and unzipped my jeans. All the pent-up tension from her outburst was now igniting a different kind of fire in both of us. Her hands returned to my chest, fingers tracing along the lines of my muscles, mapping out a path that sent electric shocks through my body.

"I've got you," I repeated, more to myself than her. My hands traveled down her sides, resting on her hips. They fit perfectly—like two puzzle pieces that had been waiting for their edges to align. The thin fabric of her jeans felt like the only barrier separating us from an explosive collision.

She quickly undid her jeans and pushed them down her hips. Squirming and wiggling around in the small confines of the truck, she managed to kick one leg off and quickly straddled me again. The heat from her body pressed against my skin. She leaned in, pressing her lips against mine again—this time, softer and slower but with no less desperation.

Her fingers tangled in my hair as she rubbed her slick folds against my cock.

"Marigold," I gasped, aching to plunge inside her.

She moved faster, sliding over my cock.

"Stop!"

She froze. "What's wrong?"

"I don't have a condom."

She looked at me, blinking several times. "I don't care."

"Marigold, a baby right now doesn't seem like a great move," I said gently.

"I'm on the pill. I don't have anything."

I inhaled deeply. This was against every rule I had, but I trusted her. "Lift up," I ordered.

She obeyed. Her hands braced on my shoulders as she lifted her body. I positioned myself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for confirmation. She nodded, biting her lower lip in anticipation before lowering herself onto me. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat and tightness of her enveloping me completely.

Her body reacted to the intrusion, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she adjusted to the feeling. Her fingers dug into my shoulders. I remained still, giving her time to accommodate me.

Once she started moving again, the rhythm was slow and steady. Her breath hitched each time she sank down onto me, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. The ache in my lower belly intensified with every movement, but I held on, wanting to prolong this moment.

The small cab was filled with the sound of our ragged breathing and the rustling of clothing against skin. Marigold's head fell back as she rode me, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into the skin. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open in a silent moan as she moved over me.

I watched her face, entranced by the way she looked when she was lost in pleasure. Her brows furrowed in concentration, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. Her lips parted ever so slightly as soft moans slipped out. She was beautiful, breathtaking in a way I'd never seen before.

Maybe it was because we had gotten to know each other better. I felt more than just lust for her, although there was still plenty of fire in my veins. There was affection too. I didn't just want to make her come. I also wanted to make her stay.

I reached up, stroking my fingers along her sides, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my touch. I could see the goosebumps rising on her flesh, responding to me. Her movements became more erratic, less rhythmic and more desperate as she chased her climax.

Feeling her so close to the edge spurred me on. My hands moved to her waist, guiding her movements as I thrust up into her harder and faster. The cab of the truck seemed to shrink around us, until all I knew was Marigold. Her scent, her sounds, the feel of her body against mine.

"Zayn," she cried out, the sound echoing through the cab.

Hearing my name from her lips was like a white-hot flame igniting within me.

She dug her nails into my shoulders, her body trembling as she rode out her climax. I held on to her waist, my fingers digging into her hips, matching her pace until I met my own relief. My eyes were locked onto hers, those dark green eyes filled with unsaid emotions.

Her movements slowed down as she came down from her high, but she didn't climb off me immediately. Instead, she collapsed onto my chest, catching her breath. Her heart pounded against my skin, mimicking the erratic rhythm of my own.

Slowly, I brushed my hand over her back in soothing strokes. "I don't know where we are, but I'm thinking we should get dressed before we scandalize this sleepy little town."

She giggled softly. "That'll give them something to talk about."